


No Trouble So Great

by Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays/pseuds/Fistful_of_Gamma_Rays
Summary: The castle is full of broken things. Coran and Hunk fix what they can.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	No Trouble So Great

The castle is meant for a crew of hundreds, not seven plus assorted mice, and phoebs after its reanimation, Coran is still combing through its systems. He addresses critical items immediately, of course. Life support and propulsion and weapons systems are kept in tip-top shape. And perhaps he could stop there. But there are dozens - hundreds - of other small patches and repairs to do. Ductwork that needs cleaning, filters that need replacing, door mechanisms that need lubrication. And everything needs the dust blown off it. He occupies his time with these, and for the most part, finds contentment in it. If there is some heartache in repairing familiar spaces grown worn down and empty, there is also some peace in making them new and clean once again. With each room he clears, the castle feels more like a living place and less like a ghost ship. It’s a hard-won satisfaction, but he takes pride in it.

Still, every once in a while, something takes him by surprise.

Today it happens when he reaches back into one of the kitchen cupboards searching for the water shutoff and his hand nudges a small, dusty box. Frowning, he draws it out. Once it’s out in the light, he instantly recognizes the bright blue and gold tin. Gently, he wipes the dust off. Cleaned up, it looks brand new. He hesitates a moment, and then carefully cracks the lid open. Inside, of course, there’s nothing but traces of a fine reddish dust and faint lingering fragrance. His shoulders fall despite himself.

“Ah, well. Too much to hope for, I suppose.”

“What’s that?” asks Hunk from where he’s working at the other counter.

He shakes himself straight and hands the box over. “Lunip. Used to be quite a popular drink back in my day. Nothing left of it now, of course.”

Hunk lifts the lid off and examines the remains of the tin’s contents. “Huh. Did you mix it or filter it? Or maybe steep it like a tea?”

“Steeped for six doboshes in hot water. Or oulsim, if you were feeling adventurous.”

“I don’t know what oulsim is, but yeah, that sounds like a tea.” Hunk wafts the air over the open box towards his face, inhaling deeply. “Whoa. Got a bit of a kick to it, huh?”

“It’s sweeter when it’s fresh.” He sighs a little wistfully. “I’m afraid this must have gone bitter quite a while ago.”

Hunk frowns and gently puts the box back together. Carefully, he sets it down on the counter. “That’s too bad.”

“Ah, well. Only to be expected after all this time.” He summons a smile. “Now, do you see the shutoff anywhere on your side?”

* * *

It’s not until several movements later that Coran thinks of it again. He’s just finished a long day of flushing the heat exchangers and is headed for a spot of well-deserved rest when Hunk spies him from the kitchen.

“Coran! Got a minute?”

“What’s the trouble, lad?”

“No trouble. I just need a second opinion.”

“Of course.” He turns for the kitchen entrance. 

Hunk is bent over the counter, stirring something. “Just one second… there you go.” He straightens up and presents Coran with a cup, slightly steaming. “Picked it up at the last stop. I don’t think it’s the same thing, but it smells a little like the whatsit. The lanip?” He snaps his fingers. “Lunip.”

Coran stares into the cup. Its contents are thinner and redder that the lunip he remembers. He inhales, and the scent fills his mouth and throat. Hunk is right - it’s too earthy, too heavy to be lunip. But there’s an edge of woody sweetness to it that is so acutely familiar it catches the breath in his chest. Cautiously, he takes a sip. The taste is astringent, but the sweetness behind it lingers after he swallows, and he has to blink against a sudden, heady surge of nostalgia.

He shakes himself out of it. “Ah. Well, you’re right - it’s not lunip. But there’s definitely a bit of similarity.”

Hunk breaks out into a smile. “Thought so!” He half-turns to pick up another cup off the counter, and Coran spies the blue and gold lunip tin open next to it.

“You kept the old box?”

Hunk’s smile turns awkward. “Well, yeah. Perfectly good box. I needed something to put this stuff in and it seemed like a shame not to use it for something.”

“Well.” He clears his throat softly. “Perfectly reasonable. No sense in letting it go to waste.”

“Take a seat, why don’t you?” Hunk waves towards the table. “Might as well take a load off while you drink that.”

He breathes in the steam from the cup again. “I believe I will.”

So he sits and sips at the not-lunip while Hunk cleans up the kitchen, chattering about his culinary haul from their last stop and his latest project with Pidge. The cup is warm in his hands, and his joints are weary with the work of the day, and Hunk’s steady stream of observations and questions and gripes is familiar by now, filling in the space of the too-empty kitchen. Hunk joins him at the table to finish his cup, and when Coran leaves, there’s an old peace settled in his bones.

The blue and gold tin finds a permanent place on the counter the next day, one more piece of the castle cleaned up and made new.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Coran and a nice cup of tea_ , prompted by [pearwaldorf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf).


End file.
